At Last (Secret Romance 4)
by phati-sari
Summary: Finally married! But the adventure isn't over yet! This is the last in a four-part series set in the Secret Romance AU. I highly recommend reading Happy New Year (Secret Romance #1), Moments (Secret Romance #2) and The Reveal (Secret Romance #3) for context.
1. Chapter 1: Anticipation

**Chapter 1: Anticipation**

Her ears ached from the weight of her earrings, a stray piece of gold thread poked into her back, and the netting that had looked cute four weeks ago had begun to itch.

Khushi sat in the middle of the bed – _his bed_ – and waited. She could hear distant murmurings and the occasional laughter from downstairs, where his family was still gathered.

She stretched, trying to relieve the itch in the middle of her back without disturbing the careful arrangement of her lehenga and dupatta that Anjali-ji and Jiji achieved for her.

 _Why isn't he here yet?_

She froze. _Maybe he should take a little longer. Because, when he gets here ..._

She couldn't suppress the shiver that through her body, half anticipation, half fear.

Nanhe-ji's voice echoed in the corridor, followed by a chorus of giggles from the women in his family, and Khushi knew that it was time. Her hands clenched into her skirt as the door opened to rowdy laughter and his brothers pushed him into the room. Anjali-ji laughed as she handed him a glass of milk, said goodnight in a singsong voice, and closed the door. He locked it behind her.

Khushi's breath came in short gasps as she shook. Arnav-ji stared at her, still standing at the door.

 _Does he see me trembling? Does he think I'm scared ... or simply cold?_

She wore a gold and pink bridal suit with a green dupatta – the same colors she'd worn when they'd met. Her skirt was gold, edged with bright pink, and so was the blouse that was mostly covered by the pink dupatta that wrapped around her waist and over her shoulder. A green dupatta, edged with pink and gold, covered her head.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was really closer to two minutes, Arnav-ji walked towards the bed. He put the glass of milk on the table and came to sit beside her. His hands shook as he lifted the dupatta and uncovered her face.

Her heart thudded almost painfully as she looked at him. Arnav Singh Raizada. Her husband. It was still hard to believe that they were married, _finally_ , and every time she remembered, a delicious thrill went through her.

He was wearing a dark blue sherwani with a dusting of gold, and still had the pink cloth that had connected them as one during the vows wrapped around his neck.

"Hi."

Khushi smiled, the familiarity of that _hi_ calming her nerves. He didn't use that tone with anyone else - it was hers ... as he was hers. His eyes flicked over her, taking in all her finery – the clothes, the jewellery, the baubles.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?" he toyed with the edge of her dupatta.

She blushed. He had.

Once as they exchanged garlands, once as they sat in front of the holy fire, and once as they were pronounced husband and wife. Once again in the car back to his house, and then again as they'd eaten their first meal as husband and wife from the same plate.

"Yes," she told him, pushing past the slight waver in her voice, "five times today."

"Make it six. Khushi, you look absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world."

Arnav-ji had been mischievous and flirtatious as they'd played the games that tradition required of them on their wedding night – racing each other to untie knots, finding her engagement ring in a bowl filled with milk, him searching for his name in her henna. He'd winked at her from across the room, held her hand as they stood together, and – when no one was watching – traced his fingers up her arms, on her back, across her waist.

 _The playfulness I can handle, but this serious side of him makes me nervous._

Arnav-ji stretched across the bed and picked up a remote, turning on the air conditioner before sliding away.

"These clothes are so hot," he complained, fiddling with the top-most button of his sherwani.

Khushi shook, a visible tremor that travelled up and down her body. Arnav-ji looked at her in concern.

"Khushi, are you all right?"

She nodded. He frowned at her as she shivered again, unable to banish the cocktail of fear and anticipation that coursed through her.

"Okay," he said in a disbelieving tone, but his voice softened as he continued, "As gorgeous as you look, those clothes can't be comfortable, especially since you've been in them all day. Go and change, relax a little, and then we'll talk?"

Khushi looked up at him.

 _That's it? He isn't going to lay me back on the bed and kiss me? He isn't going to take off my jewellery, piece by piece? He isn't going to untie my dori and ... and ... ... Well, okay. I don't know what comes next, exactly. The serials and movies always fade to black._

But she'd expected something. Unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed, Khushi slid to the edge of the bed and got down. Her husband noticed the sudden change in her mood.

"Khushi?"

Arnav-ji tugged at her hand so that she fell against him. He held her close, cradling her head with his hand as he always did.

"What's wrong, Khushi? Talk to me."

She shook her head, not knowing what to say or how to say it. When he let her go, all she could look at was the unbuttoned collar of his sherwani. Arnav-ji followed her gaze, looking down at the collar and back up to her. All at once, he seemed to realize.

"Khushi. Nothing has to happen," he gently lifted her face so she was looking into his eyes, "Tonight or any other night. Nothing is going to happen, here or in any other part of our married life, unless we both want it. We'll do what feels right for us. This is our marriage, and we're the only people who matter. Got it?"

She nodded as a few errant tears escaped. He always knew what to say. Arnav-ji wiped her tears before repeating his suggestion that she change. He placed the small suitcase that had travelled with her on the sofa and opened it.

 _I've come into his home with so little._

But when she looked at him, Khushi knew that all the riches in the world couldn't compare to what she'd gained: a husband who understood her like no one else.

Khushi took off an earring and looked around for a place to put it. Arnav-ji pointed to a shelf underneath the mirror that hung on his wall. She noticed that the files and papers that were usually stacked there were gone.

"I don't have a dressing table, but Di said you might like it the way it is. If you want, we can get a dressing table."

Khushi shook her head, touched by the gesture. He'd made space for her in his bedroom. _In his life_. She took off her jewellery, one piece at a time, while Arnav-ji typed on his laptop as he sat on the bed.

 _Working, even now_ , she thought with a smile, and he looked up as though he'd heard.

"I'm not working. I'm finalizing the honeymoon. I promised you that I wouldn't work for a week."

Her smile grew wider as he met her eyes in the mirror and mouthed, " _I love you_ ".

* * *

 _Author's Note_ : This is the fourth in a four-part series set in the Secret Romance AU. I highly recommend reading Happy New Year (Secret Romance #1), Moments (Secret Romance #2) and The Reveal (Secret Romance #3) for context.

 _A Note on the AU_ : With Shyam being non-existent in this AU, parts three and four are, _necessarily_ , entirely AU.


	2. Chapter 2: Galaxy

**Chapter 2: Galaxy**

"Uhh, Khushi," he began as she was taking off the first of her three necklaces, "what's the milk for?"

"Milk?" she asked absently, watching him in the mirror.

Arnav-ji pointed to the glass of milk he'd placed on the table. "Di gave me a glass of milk."

Khushi blushed. "It's ... it's for you."

"Why?" his brow furrowed as he stared at the glass.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya. How do I explain?_

"You should drink it," she avoided his eyes and busied herself by taking off both her dupattas. Every time she thought she'd gotten all the pins that held them in place, she found another one.

Arnav-ji looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. "You're not going to tell me?"

Feeling ten times lighter without her jewellery, Khushi ignored him and walked to the bathroom. She'd never been inside it, and was surprised to find that it was decorated tastefully in blues and whites. Blue tiles, white vanity, blue mats and white towels. Arnav-ji's voice came from the bedroom.

"Khushi, I emptied a shelf in there for you, and bought some toiletries for you to use."

She smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. His laughter rang out as she unzipped her blouse, and she cracked open the door to peek out. He was reading something on his phone. Khushi guessed that he'd found out about the milk.

Milk with crushed almonds, for virility and stamina. An aphrodisiac.

Khushi blushed as she pushed the door closed again.

A wave of melancholy hit her as she entered the shower and stood under the spray of water. He'd filled a shelf with shower gel, shampoo and conditioner just for her.

It seemed like such a silly thing but she suddenly missed the toiletries she had grown up using. Everything, from the pressure of the water to the scent of the soap, felt foreign. When people talked about marriage, they talked about getting along with in-laws, a husband's duties, a wife's responsibilities. No one had warned her about the feeling of displacement, that she'd have to leave everything that was familiar to her, not only her family, her room, and her bed, but also the things she used every day.

 _But Arnav-ji said that we'll work everything out together. I'll ask him if we can buy the things I usually use. And Jiji will help._

When she was finished, Khushi dried her hair as best she could and returned to the bedroom. Arnav-ji was searching through his wardrobe with a towel draped over his shoulder. He'd taken off the blue sherwani and rolled up the sleeves of the cream and gold kurta that went underneath it. He smiled as he approached her, a change of clothes bundled in his hands.

"I'm going to shower and change. Uhhh ... Oh yeah. If you want to unpack your things, you can put them anywhere in the closet. I don't mind. It's mostly empty, except for these two drawers here."

He gestured, making sure she understood, before disappearing into the bathroom. But he returned not ten seconds later, slipping one hand around her waist and threading the other into her damp hair.

"I can't believe you're here. I keep expecting you to disappear."

She giggled. "No, I'm here. Forever. For seven lifetimes."

He kissed her softly before returning to the bathroom. Khushi stood uncertainly, looking around the room with trepidation.

 _Maybe I'll unpack like he said._

She found spare hangers inside the wardrobe and started to hang up her clothes. A thrill went through her when she saw her things hanging beside his, the brightness of her kameezes and saris contrasting beautifully with dark shades of his suits and shirts. She arranged her things into the drawers, blushing at the thought of him finding them there, and then paused as she considered the two drawers he'd pointed to. Her hand reached for the topmost one, almost of its own volition. She opened it slowly, gasped, squeezed her eyes shut and slammed the drawer closed.

Underclothes.

The water shut off.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, please protect me. I'll never open his drawers again._

Khushi cringed as the bathroom door opened, and her blush intensified as he came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he assessed her progress. Droplets of water fell from his hair onto her shoulder and neck, sliding into her clothes. She shivered.

"Looks good, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada."

It sounded perfect - his name attached to hers. She turned and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing as close as she dared. They stayed like that, gently swaying to some unheard music, until he broke their silence.

"I have a surprise for you. Do you want to see it now?"

"Yes!" she looked around, trying to see if he'd hidden something for her in the room, "What surprise?"

Arnav-ji led her to the bed, where he lay back on the pillows and indicated for her to do the same. She hesitated for a second before lying beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. They were plunged into a sudden darkness when he pressed a button on the remote he held. Panic, raw and visceral, gripped Khushi for a beat, but then his words came back to her - _Nothing is going to happen, here or in any other part of our married life, unless we both want it_. She relaxed.

"I know you slept with stars hanging above your bed," he began, his voice soft and warm in the darkness, "I know this isn't the same, but I hope you like it."

She felt Arnav-ji shift slightly and her pulse raced at the movement, but a light on the ceiling quickly distracted her. A universe flourished into being as she watched, stars and galaxies wheeling overhead. She flew through bands of stars, through clouds of shimmering gas, and then came to a stop at the edge of a galaxy. Three stars moved into the foreground and brightened.

"That one is your Amma," he pointed to the right-most star, "and that one next to it is your Babu-ji. And that ... that's my Mamma."

"Thank you," a small sob escaped her.

"I know it's not what you imagined, but I thought that, this way, you can see them whenever you want ..."

"No," Khushi held him tightly, "it's perfect."

He used two fingers to lift her face to his and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her lips.

"There's one more reason I prefer this to the stars hanging from the ceiling," he confessed, banishing the projection with a press of a button, "I can't do this with our mothers watching."

He flipped them around and pressed her into the mattress, kissing her long and deep.

She laughed as he pulled back. "No, I guess you can't."

Chuckling, he bestowed another kiss, tangling his legs with hers. It felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

"It's been two days since I heard you laugh," he traced her eyelids with a gentle finger.

Their families had been vigilant since their _haldi_ ; their phones had been confiscated and his car keys had disappeared for hours on end. Now they made up for it, sharing stories and swapping anecdotes between long, slow kisses and experimental touches. He inspected her henna with his lips as she told him how Bua-ji had gotten tangled in a string of marigolds. She slid her hand across his chest, entertaining scandalous ideas about the skin underneath, as he complained about Nani-ji's insistence on decorating his car with pink flowers.

He paused, a smile playing on his lips as he took her hand and guided it under his shirt. She snatched it away with a gasp, and turned into one big blush at his audacity.

"Ssshhh," he soothed, and continued his story as if nothing had happened.

Her long day slowly took its toll - waking before dawn for a prayer and fasting until the end of the ceremony - and her eyes felt heavy. She fell asleep in the middle of one of his stories and barely felt the soft press of his lips at her temple as he whispered good night.


	3. Chapter 3: Toast

**Chapter 3: Toast**

Khushi's eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling. Her pulse raced until she recognised where she was. His bedroom – _their bedroom_ , she quickly corrected – was bright with the sunlight that streamed through a gap in the curtains.

She turned her head to look at him. Her husband. Arnav-ji was vulnerable and unguarded in sleep, in a way he never was in his waking moments. Khushi shifted so she could see him better and stilled at the soft noise of protest that came from somewhere deep inside him. The arm that was wrapped around her tightened as he pulled her closer in his sleep, mumbling her name. She placed her hand over his at her waist before allowing her fingers to trail lightly up his arm, across his shoulder, and up to his face. She caressed the soft skin under his eye, stroked his brow, and then ran her fingers through his hair.

Finally, he was hers.

Arnav-ji woke slowly, squinting and blinking before giving her a smile. "Am I dreaming?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," she smiled back, "If we're dreaming, then let's never wake up."

He seemed to like that; he grinned as he rolled them around so she was lying on his chest. They talked and laughed and teased until his phone buzzed with an alarm.

"Jogging," he explained, stretching to retrieve his phone from the table.

Arnav-ji slid out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. She heard the buzz of an electric toothbrush, followed by the deeper drone of a shaver. Khushi was sitting up in the bed, replying to the congratulatory text messages that had come through last night, when he emerged, dressed in a jogging outfit.

"I'll be back soon," he said, quickly kissing her before leaving.

Khushi got ready for the day slowly, relieved to find that the alienation she'd felt last night was receding quickly. She even thought she could learn to love the grapefruit shower gel he'd bought her.

When she was done, Khushi stood in front of the wardrobe.

 _Amma always takes out Babu-ji's clothes. Maybe I should take out Arnav-ji's clothes for him. But ... what if he doesn't like what I pick?_

She finally laid out an outfit with all her favourite things – his black suit, blue shirt, and black tie – and decided to ask him what to do in the future.

Downstairs, Khushi helped with the morning pooja, blushing as Anjali-ji and Nani-ji teased her.

"Khushi-ji, you look tired, didn't Chhote let you sleep?" giggled her sister-in-law.

She pouted as her Jiji joined in, silently vowing revenge, but her heart gave a little quiver of fear.

 _What do they all know that I don't?_

She retreated upstairs as soon as she could and busied herself with her unpacking, declining her sister's offer to help. She needed time to think before Arnav-ji returned.

He strode into the room some ten minutes later, coming to an uncertain stop in the middle of the room when he saw her. She took him in slowly. His face and hair were wet, as if he'd tipped a bottle of water over his head before coming inside, and his shirt clung to him almost obscenely, outlining the torso she'd never seen but suddenly wanted to. Very much.

"Baby, if you keep looking at me like that I won't let you out of this bedroom all day."

Blushing, Khushi came back to herself and mumbled an apology.

 _You're shameless, Khushi!_

She turned back to the wardrobe, hands shaking and heart pounding, but he was suddenly right behind her, holding her by the waist.

"Hey. Don't be sorry. Never be sorry. But, if you're going to look at me like that when I get back then I might have to jog every morning, not just four times a week."

She turned and swatted at him, smiling at his joke as relief spread through her, and he ducked before rushing into the bathroom.

Khushi was helping with the breakfast preparations when he came downstairs, wearing everything she'd laid out for him except the suit's jacket. Arnav-ji smiled at her as he took his seat at the dining table but it faded away when his sister smacked his hand as he reached for toast.

"Di!"

"No. Today you have to eat what Khushi-ji made for you. It's her first day in this house."

His eyes were warm as he looked at her. "What did you make?"

"Halwa-puri," interjected Mami-ji, "I told her to make halwa-puri for us, my signature dish! We can compare what Phati- I mean, Khushi-bitya has made to what I made when I first came into this house."

"That was so long ago, Manno," grinned Mama-ji, "who will remember it?"

"You just shut-upiyai!"

Arnav-ji held her gaze, an apology in his eyes, but Khushi shook her head. She had to make something, and halwa-puri was something she made well.

"We have such wonderful _bahus_ ," Nani-ji smiled as Khushi served her, "Payal-bitya made a wonderful kheer, and now Khushi-bitya has made us halwa-puri."

Khushi grinned as she made her way around the table, serving her new family alongside Jiji and Hari Prakash-ji.

"Khushi-ji, this food is delicious," smiled Jija-ji.

"Khushi-bitya, your halwa is marvelous," praised Mama-ji.

 _A hundred thousand thank yous, Devi Maiyya. Everyone likes the halwa-puri. I'll make you two kilograms of jalebi as an offering!_

Arnav-ji smiled at her as she took her seat next to him and served his with the sugar free halwa she'd prepared. When he finished his portion, she quickly buttered a piece of toast for him and poured a glass of orange juice.

"I know you can't go without your toast and juice," she said in undertone.

He took her hand under the table, curling his fingers around hers and running his thumb over her knuckles.

When the breakfast things were cleared and packed away, Khushi hurried upstairs, intent on speaking to her sister. Jiji was in her room, fiddling with a basket of clean laundry that had just been delivered.

"Jiji, do you need any help?"

"No, it's all done, I just need to separate out my things from your Jija's. But I think this shirt is Arnav-ji's."

Khushi sat on the bed, Arnav-ji's shirt on her lap, and watched as her sister packed things into drawers and cupboards.

"Khushi, I'm so glad you and Arnav-ji decided not to have a wedding reception. I don't think I could handle another night of getting dressed up and talking to strangers."

"He hates things like that," Khushi smiled fondly, "He said we could spend an extra day on our honeymoon instead."

"Has he told you where you're going?"

"No," Khushi sighed, accidentally bunching up her husband's shirt and creasing it, "he refuses to tell me. He says it's a surprise."

"How will you know what to pack?"

"He's taking me shopping in a few days. I guess I'll have some clues then."

Khushi busied herself by organising her sister's saris for her, and they worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. She fiddled with a tassel on one of Jiji's blouses.

"Jiji ..." she began, "how was your honeymoon?"

"It was magnificent," her sister smiled, "London is beautiful. We went to so many exciting places. You saw the pictures."

Khushi closed her eyes.

"And what about ... the other ... things ..."

"What other things?"

"Jiji!" Khushi sighed, "the _other_ things."


	4. Chapter 4: Sisters

**Chapter 4: Sisters**

"Oh." Jiji put the sari she was folding away and stared at the floor, "I was really scared at first, every woman is, but it's a normal part of life."

"But Jiji," Khushi fiddled with her dupatta, "I don't ... I don't understand what happens, exactly."

"Weren't you paying attention in school?"

"No!" Khushi gasped, "Hai Devi Maiyya. What if Amma found out that I went to those classes? No! I skipped them all."

"Khushi," Jiji sighed, "you really are as crazy as Bua-ji says you are."

Khushi watched as her sister tapped out a message on her phone.

"Who are you texting?" she squealed, "Are you telling Arnav-ji?"

"What!? No! Khushi I'm not cruel."

"Then?" she asked sullenly.

"I'm telling Di that I can't come to the temple with her. This is more important."

Khushi's heart thudded in a painfully fast rhythm as she went back to folding clothes. Regret churned in her belly.

"Khushi, stop that and sit next to me."

Her sister took her hand as Khushi moved to sit with her. "Don't worry so much, Khushi. Arnav-ji loves you very much, I'm sure he'll make sure you're comfortable."

Khushi nodded and bit her lip. When she spoke, her voice quivered despite her attempts to steady it.

"Jiji, I don't think I'm ready for children right now."

"Talk to Arnav-ji about it," her sister urged, "Don't hide things from him, Khushi, he's your husband. It's important that you talk to him."

"But ..." Khushi blushed, "what about the kissing? What if ..."

Jiji laughed, but quickly cut it off when Khushi looked up at her.

"Kissing doesn't make babies. It takes a lot more than kissing to make babies. But even then there are things that he can do, and that you can do, to avoid children until you're both ready. Talk to him about it."

Khushi sagged with relief, and then registered the rest of her sister's words.

"What do you mean, 'a lot more'?"

"Payal-ji? Khushi-ji?"

They were interrupted by Di, who had appeared at the door with Hari Prakash-ji in tow. Khushi looked between her sister and sister-in-law.

 _Did Di hear anything? Will she tell Arnav-ji?_

"Oh I'm so glad I found you," Di continued, "We looked everywhere. Khushi-ji, Chhote is asking for you. He's in the study."

"Oh," Khushi looked uncertainly at Jiji, "I'll see what he wants. Thanks Jiji, for everything."

She walked slowly to the study, processing everything Jiji had told her. There was, apparently, a lot more she had to learn. She blushed as she rounded the corridor and glimpsed her husband, hunched over some papers on the couch.

 _Will he know what I was asking Jiji just by looking at me? Sometimes it feels like he can read my mind._

"Arnav-ji? Is something wrong?" she asked as she sat down.

He glanced at her, distracted by the document he was reading. "What? No, no. I just ... hold on."

Khushi toyed with her dupatta as she waited for him to finish. He signed whatever he was reading with a flourish and turned to her.

"Your passport came," he handed her a white envelope.

She pulled out a small navy blue book with the words REPUBLIC OF INDIA emblazoned in gold across the front.

"Wow, that was quick," she said, opening it to reveal her photo.

"Well ... there are some perks to being a Raizada."

She handed it back to him and watched as he slid it into a folder alongside an identical document.

"Oh, show me yours."

He handed it to her.

"Your photo is horrible!" she crowed in delight, giggling, "You look so stern. They got your name wrong – it should be Mr Laad Governor."

Scowling, he took the passport back.

"They don't let you smile," he argued.

"Uh huh. And did you smile a lot eight years ago?"

"I guess not. I didn't have you around to laugh at."

"Haww," she gasped, "what did you just say?"

He kissed her cheek, "Nothing."

Khushi opened her mouth, intent on winning back some dignity after his teasing, but he distracted her with a form.

"Are you free now? I need you to fill these out."

They spent the next hour filling out forms. He explained what they were for as she wrote out her name, birthdate, and contact details countless times.

"I'm opening two bank accounts for you, one for everyday use and one for saving money. I'll transfer in money every month."

"No!" she protested, "I want to support myself as much as possible, Arnav-ji. I told you before we were married."

He nodded. "I'll support you until you can support yourself, okay? Let me do this, as your husband."

She resisted, but eventually gave in, vowing to find a way to make money of her own as quickly as possible.

He gave her details of another account before presenting her with a credit card, explaining that it was linked to a separate household account that paid for the food, the servants, and the bills.

"Everything for the house comes from this account, Khushi. Don't use the money from your personal accounts for groceries or any of that nonsense. That's your money, for you to spend however you want."

"Arnav-ji?" she began hesitantly, "I helped Bua-ji with ... I helped her pay the re-rent when I was living there."

He looked up, eyes narrowed in confusion, but his expression cleared as he realised what she was asking.

"That money is yours, Khushi, do whatever you want with it. I'll be glad if we're helping them out. I mean it, they're my family too."

Khushi smiled through her tears. Bua-ji had warned her, sternly and repeatedly, not to say anything to him about the rent.

 _But I'm glad I trusted my instincts. Arnav-ji always understands. Maybe Jiji is right ... maybe I should talk to him about the other things too._

"One last thing, Khushi," he said before she'd worked out how to broach the subject, "you can use the safe in the wardrobe if you want. Here's the code."

Arnav-ji handed her a slip of paper. Khushi stared, mouth agape, stunned by this casual admission of the depth of his trust. And then she launched herself at him, surprising him with a hug that almost ended with both of them tumbling to the floor.

"Careful, Khushi."

"Thank you," she whispered, "for everything. I love you so much."


	5. Chapter 5: Kheer

**Chapter 5: Kheer**

That evening, Khushi sat on the sofa, sorting through her bangles and arranging them onto the holder Arnav-ji had bought for her. She hummed Salman-ji's latest hit as she worked, and looked up as her husband entered their room. A wonderful, sweet aroma wafted from the bowl he held in his hands. Her tummy gave a little growl.

"Do you have food?" she jumped up eagerly.

"Your Jiji made me kheer. I think I married the wrong sister."

"Hawww," she pushed at his chest, "Don't tease like that! Anyway, Jiji makes wonderful kheer! You don't know how much I've missed Jiji's cooking."

But he stepped away, holding the bowl out of her reach.

"Arnav-ji!"

"Arnav," he corrected with a smirk, "You agreed to call me Arnav once a week after our wedding."

 _Hey Devi Maiyya, I was hoping he'd forget! But this Laad Governor never forgets anything._

"Arnav-ji," she complained, reaching for the bowl again.

"Khushi," he leaned in for a kiss.

She pouted into the kiss, still trying to reach for the kheer.

"I think you might like food more than you like me," he observed.

"Fine," she huffed, and retreated outside with a bang of the poolside doors.

He followed a few minutes later, changed into his night clothes, the bowl of kheer in one hand and a stack of thick envelopes in the other. Khushi, busy inspecting the pink blooms on one of his plants, watched out of the corner of her eye as he took a seat at the outdoor table.

"These are pamphlets from all the colleges in Delhi," he remarked casually, "You should look through them."

Warmth replaced all her irritation as he turned to her. "You want to support yourself, Khushi, and I want to support you. Pick anything, do anything you want. Mohan will drive you and pick you up if I can't."

For the second time that day she was speechless, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. She rushed to his side and threw her arms around him. Arnav-ji pulled her into his lap, cradling her head against his chest as he stroked her hair.

Khushi broke their silence a few minutes later. "Thank you, Ar-Arnav."

She tried to hide herself, blushing, but he lifted her mouth to his with two fingers under her chin and thanked her with a kiss. Then he reached for the kheer.

"You missed your sister's cooking?" he asked as he fed her some.

Khushi nodded as she swallowed, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. She took the spoon and fed him the last of the kheer. He smiled before kissing her again. Their kiss lengthened, deepened, and a now-familiar heat fluttered within her. He took her hand and slid it under his shirt, and this time she left it there, relishing his warmth. He groaned softly when she moved her fingers, and _his_ fingers traced patterns on the skin left exposed by her blouse. She sprang away.

"Someone might see!" she glanced at the stairs leading to the terrace.

"No one can see."

"I'm ..." she fought for some control, "I'm going inside."

She hurried away, snatching a change of clothes from the wardrobe before locking herself in the bathroom. Her fingertips tingled as though they could still feel the warmth of him. She felt his hands on her back when she closed her eyes.

 _Hey Devi Maiyya._

She washed, changed, and made herself ready for bed. When she emerged, he was sitting in bed, against the headboard, with his laptop in front of him. He looked up as she approached. Her heart skipped several beats.

"Come here, I want to show you something," Arnav-ji put the laptop aside.

He pulled her into his lap, taking a moment to kiss her cheek, and then placed the laptop in front of her. The screen was lit up with a picture of a gorgeous beach, all white sand and turquoise blue water.

"This," he said, scrolling to the next picture, "is where we're going in a few days."

"Wow," Khushi breathed, "it's beautiful!"

"I thought you'd like it," she heard the smile in his voice even though she couldn't see it, "a week in the Maldives."

He clicked to the next picture. "And this is where we're staying."

It was exquisite. A small house decorated in sumptuous white and dark woods, covered with windows that opened onto a huge balcony. It was surrounded by water. He showed her more photos, each more magnificent than the last, and Khushi wondered at how much her life had changed. It looked like heaven, like it couldn't possibly exist in the same world she'd spent her life in.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Yes. A lot. Thank you."

His lips were suddenly at her shoulder, kissing their way to her neck. She shivered and let her head fall back on his shoulder. The laptop disappeared from her hands, and then he was leaning her back against the pillows, pressing into her, and kissing her. Always, kissing her.

Two minutes later, she couldn't remember her own name.


	6. Chapter 6: Pruning

**Chapter 6: Pruning**

The next morning, Khushi was fiddling with the shears at the poolside, trying to remember what Arnav-ji had told her about pruning. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Arnav-ji had just emerged from the bathroom, wearing his dress-pants and nothing else.

Khushi froze. Her mouth went dry and suddenly there wasn't enough air in her lungs. She knew she should look away – he didn't know she could see him – but she watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he fished something out of his bedside table. He sat on the bed as he held it to his finger, and frowned at the strip of paper that came out of it.

 _Checking his sugar_ , she realised.

Arnav-ji rummaged in his drawer again before standing with his back to her. He was holding a syringe when he turned around. Khushi watched as he tapped it. He pinched the skin of his torso between his fingers, and she turned around with a gasp, squeezing her eyes shut, as he moved his other hand.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya. He's so brave, to do that every day._

A deep melancholy rose within her. She knew he couldn't have sugar, and had even revived him when he'd fainted in the kitchen, but seeing him check his sugar and use a syringe somehow made it more real.

It was many long minutes before she could turn around again. Khushi watched, blushing slightly, as he picked out a shirt and shrugged it on, leaving it unbuttoned as he decided between the two ties he held in his hands. He threw one on the bed, next to the waistcoat and jacket from his suit, and returned the other to the hanger.

When Arnav-ji turned, doing up the buttons of his shirt, his eyes found Khushi. She quickly turned around, pretending to be absorbed in picking a branch to cut.

"Khushi," he called.

She closed her eyes and mumbled a prayer before going inside. Arnav-ji was knotting his tie, his movements quick and precise. Khushi saw amusement glint in his eyes.

"Are you ready for today?"

She breathed a sigh of relief that he was choosing to ignore what he'd seen.

"Yes. Nani-ji gave me the gifts for the _shagun_ and Bua-ji is coming to pick me up at ten."

"I put something on the shelf for you take as well," he indicated with his eyes, his hands still busy with the tie.

Khushi found three packages on the shelf inside the wardrobe, neatly gift wrapped and tagged with "Bua-ji", "Aunty" and "Uncle".

"What are they?" she picked up the biggest one and shook it gently.

"Ahh, that one's Bua-ji's. A pooja thaal. There's also a sari for your mother and a kurta for your father."

She turned to her husband, who was now buttoning up his waistcoat, unaware of how emotional his gesture had made her.

"I love how you think of them as your own family," she walked over and slipped her arms around him, burrowing into his chest.

Arnav-ji stroked her hair, "They _are_ my family, Khushi."

Bua-ji arrived just after ten and was quickly seated into the living room with the entire family. Jiji and Jija-ji took blessings and talked to her while Khushi prepared tea for everyone. She took the tray out just as Arnav-ji came down the stairs, and happiness – warm and golden – burst inside her as she watched him touch Bua-ji's feet in obeisance.

Everyone exchanged pleasantries while Khushi served the tea. Unsurprisingly, Bua-ji declined, clinging to her traditional views that one should not eat or drink in a daughter's _sasuraal_. Khushi had left her husband for last and handed him his sugar free tea before sitting next to him.

"You are sending too many gifts yet again, Devyani-ji," Bua-ji objected to the gifts that were piled on the coffee table, "We don't need these gifts, we're just happy that Khushi is welcome in your home."

"Nonsense," replied Nani-ji, "we're only sending you gifts as appropriate. We've promised to keep both Khushi and Payal happy here, but we'll always remember that you gave us both our daughters-in-law."

Mami-ji mumbled something that sounded like "Buy one, get one free," which caused Jija-ji to narrow his eyes at her. Arnav-ji briefly took Khushi's hand, silently apologizing for his aunt's barbed comments. She turned to him with a smile, assuring him that it didn't bother her.

When it was time to leave, Jiji walked with Bua-ji while Khushi and Arnav-ji trailed them. He loaded the gifts and her bag into the waiting auto-rickshaw.

"Arnav-babua, there was no need to send so many gifts!" Bua-ji repeated her complaint.

He shook his head, "No, Bua-ji. Whatever we do, it will never equal your generosity in allowing Akash and I to marry your nieces."

Khushi smiled as Bua-ji pulled his head down and kissed his forehead, bestowing her Nand Kishore's blessings. Jiji left after kissing Bua-ji goodbye, and Bua-ji climbed into the rickshaw, giving them some privacy.

"Take care of yourself, Khushi," he pressed a quick kiss to her temple as he hugged her tightly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

Arnav-ji helped her into the rickshaw and then ducked his head inside.

"I'll come and pick her up early tomorrow morning," he told Bua-ji.

"Good, good," she said with a smile.

He squeezed Khushi's hand briefly in farewell and allowed the rickshaw to drive off.


	7. Chapter 7: Home

**Chapter 7: Home**

Khushi packed a set of red clips into a small bag, where they joined a growing collection of small and sundry items she'd forgotten when she'd packed before the wedding. Her favourite sandalwood soap. A small black comb. The evening breeze rustled through the open window, cooling the small bedroom she'd always shared with her sister when they visited Delhi.

It had been a wonderful day. She'd spent time with her parents, helping in the kitchen and making her favourite dishes, fussed over her father and amused her mother with anecdotes from her new home. Everything was familiar and easy, from her father's smiles to her mother's teasing to Bua-ji's good natured scolding.

Khushi slid into the bed, angling herself precisely so it squeaked as little as possible. It was a skill she'd acquired over the years. She shivered against the cold sheets and immediately missed Arnav-ji. He always made sure that she was warm.

Her phone buzzed and Khushi looked over to see her husband's name flashing on the screen.

"I knew you couldn't go one night without me," she greeted.

"I wouldn't have to if you hadn't insisted on staying the night. Why couldn't I get you in the afternoon like Aakash did with Payal?"

A throb of longing flowed through her.

 _I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time._

"Arnav-ji ..."

"Okay," he sighed, "Let's start again. Tell me about your day."

"The first thing we did was open the presents," Khushi snuggled into the sheets as she recounted, "Amma really liked the sari you got her. She said my husband has good taste."

"That I do. Managing Director of AR, remember?"

"You're modest too," she grinned into the phone.

Arnav-ji laughed. She was sure her heart skipped a beat.

"Then we had lunch," she continued, "Amma made my favourite. Potatoes!"

Khushi lapsed into silence, thinking of her father. It had brought tears to her eyes to see him eat without assistance.

"Khushi? Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes, sorry," Khushi reached up and tried to touch one of the stars that hung above her, "I was thinking about Babu-ji. He's recovering very well, but I won't be here to see him get better."

"Hey," his voice was soft and reassuring, "of course you'll be there. We'll both be there. You know I won't keep you away from your family."

As usual, the stars remained out of reach. Khushi's hand fluttered back down.

"Okay."

"Don't cry, baby."

"I'm not crying," she wiped her tears.

"Shut up, Khushi. I can tell."

Khushi managed a small laugh. A ghost of a laugh.

"I'm coming over," he said.

She heard muted sounds through the phone as he moved around – the rattle of the wardrobe door, the jangle of his keys.

"No. Stop, stay there. I'm fine," she told him.

"Make sure the door is open," he ordered before ending the call.

Khushi sat up, wringing her hands as the sheets fell away. It went against tradition for him to visit before it was time for him to take her home.

 _Home. When did I start thinking of Shantivan as home?_

She found her family watching a movie in the living room. _Pakeezah_ , and it looked like it'd only just started. Khushi texted Arnav-ji to let him know that the window to her bedroom was open but everyone was still awake.

 _I don't care._

Her pulse quickened when she heard his car. Arnav-ji parked the car so it couldn't be seen from the living room and appeared at her window.

"Hi," he smiled, using both hands to climb inside.

Khushi opened her mouth to remind him that he shouldn't be here but found herself running to him instead. He held her tightly as she tried to steal his warmth. Arnav-ji pulled back first.

"I waited so long to bring you into my home," he ran his fingers over her eyelid, her cheek, her lips, "and you've run away in less than three days."

"I haven't run away. You're just impatient."

"That's true. Mamma always scolded me because I didn't have any patience."

She led him to the bed, where they sat side-by-side. He reached up to play with one of the stars. She took one of his hands in hers and rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair.

"Khushi ..." he said a few minutes later.

"Mmmm?"

"You can come back here whenever you want. You don't need to ask anyone for permission, okay? Just get a car and come."

"But, Arnav-ji ..."

"No. I don't care. If you want, we can both stay here for a few weeks as well."

Khushi hugged him tightly before standing. She walked around the room, trying to see what he saw. She took in the small wardrobe, the open window, the pink mosquito net that hung around the bed, the small knick-knacks from her childhood.

"You'd be uncomfortable here, Arnav-ji. There's no air conditioning, we sleep with the window open, and we don't have the things you're used to."

"I'll manage. For you."

His eyes found her Salman Khan poster.

"You really do have Salman Khan posters in your room," he observed, "I thought you were joking."

"No, Salman-ji is the best actor ever. I love his movies! He's so talented, and handsome, and strong, and when he fights the bad guys he always wins. He's so funny, and he has those muscles, and he dances so well!"

Absorbed in her praise, Khushi skipped around her husband and demonstrated a dance move, and then laughed as Arnav-ji caught her up and swung her around.

"Are you admiring another man while your husband is right here, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada?" he breathed into her ear as she squirmed, trying to get away.

"Arnav-ji, let me go."

"No. You're mine."

Giggling, Khushi swatted at his hands, but he only held her tighter. He started to tickle her, and neither of them heard the bedroom door open.

"Titaliya, you haven't eaten any din— ... Oh."

The three of them stood frozen in the sudden silence. Bua-ji looked at Khushi's waist, and she realised that Arnav-ji was still holding her. She quickly shook him off.

"Bua-ji ..."

But Bua-ji had already left, closing the door softly behind her.


	8. Chapter 8: Pakeezah

**Chapter 8: Pakeezah**

Arnav-ji swore and paced the length of the room. He didn't notice when Khushi reached for him and she twisted her hands together as she waited for him to speak.

"I think," he stopped in front of her, "we should leave."

"What! No!"

"Khushi," he closed his eyes, exasperated, "let's go home. We'll go out, explain, and leave."

"Arnav-ji, I can't."

"Why not?" his eyebrow rose.

"This is important to me," she gave him a tentative smile, "You see, the bride is like the goddess Lakshmi and we return because-"

He kissed her, cradling her head with one hand while the other other splayed across her back, pulling her close. Khushi gasped. He deepened the kiss.

"You know I don't understand these things," he chided as he pulled away.

"But, Arnav-ji ..."

"Home, Khushi," he cajoled, running his nose across her cheek, kissing her jaw, "Our room. Our bed."

He trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

"N-n-no," her voice was barely a whisper.

Arnav-ji released her slowly, "Are you being serious?"

She nodded, still breathless with the possibilities he presented.

"Well, then," he ran a hand through his hair, "Wait ... you haven't eaten?"

"I had _chaat_. Bua-ji doesn't think it counts."

"Khushi ..." he kissed her hair, smiling, "You need to eat, and I should let you spend time with your family. I'll apologise and go."

Khushi shook her head, "No. It was both of us. We should check on Bua-ji together."

He kissed her quickly and followed her out to the front room. Amma and Babu-ji looked up as they entered, unsurprised to see Arnav-ji. Bua-ji had obviously told them everything.

" _Bitwa_ , would you like to eat something?" Amma asked him with a smile.

"Uhhh ... yes?" Arnav-ji threw her a bewildered look as Amma dragged him away by the hand.

Khushi watched as her family steadfastly ignored the strangeness of the situation. Amma seated Arnav-ji at one end of the table and served him food while politely asking after his Nani and sister. He gave short answers, still confused.

Bua-ji came up behind Khushi. " _Parmeshwari_ , you should eat too."

"But ... Bua-ji ..."

" _Hai re Nand Kishore_. Shush! Just go and sit down."

Khushi took a seat next to him as her family joined them. The meal passed with polite conversation.

"By the way, Arnav-bitwa, what brought you here?" Amma asked as she refilled his glass with water, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I ... Aunty ... You see ... Khushi ..." he lapsed into silence.

Amma laughed.

"Why are you teasing him?" Bua-ji frowned, "Garima, stop pestering my _damaad_."

Khushi turned to see her father smiling and couldn't stop her own smile. She fell in love with Arnav-ji a little more as she watched him smile, laugh, and joke with her family. Then, he caught sight of the TV.

"I hate this movie," he complained, looking at Khushi.

"What!?"

"It's so silly," he gestured, as if he could convey how _silly_ it was with just his hands, "He falls in love with her feet. Her feet, Khushi."

"I think it's romantic," Khushi countered, "They fall in love without saying a single word."

"It's ridiculous. What if her voice was all nasally?"

Amma and Bua-ji laughed.

"You know, Arnav- _babua_ ," Bua-ji began, "When I first met Khushi's Fufa I didn't know what to think. He was this tall, shy man sitting on my parent's best sofa, the cup of tea I'd made him clutched in his hands. He looked at me once. In two hours, just once, _Nand Kishore_! But, he told his sister that he wanted to marry me right there, as he was leaving our home. Sometimes one look is all it takes."

Arnav-ji took her hand under the table. She tried to twist it free but he held firm.

"And Shashi- _babua_ ," Bua-ji continued, "You should've seen him when we went to see Garima. His hands shook like nothing else. And Garima, she was hiding behind her dupatta the whole time. Khushi, your mother never let Garima forget it either, she was forever teasing her about it."

Khushi giggled and watched her parents exchange embarrassed glances as Arnav-ji traced his thumb over her knuckles. She kicked him under the table. He pinched her hand in warning.

"Now Arnav- _bitwa_ , Khushi's mother and father were something else entirely," Amma decided to join in, "They were childhood friends. Her father had decided that he wanted to marry her mother years earlier. But when he came with his family to ask, she refused. He left for college, and when he returned he asked after her mother again. They fell in love. When he came to ask for her hand the second time, she couldn't say yes quickly enough."

Khushi blinked away sudden tears. Arnav-ji's hand tightened around hers.

"And you two," Amma smiled that them, "Well. I know it's all very modern to fall in love first. Aakash- _bitwa_ and Payaliya did it too. But the two of you ... You couldn't take your eyes off each other. Absolutely shameless. Khushi, did you know he was staring as if you might disappear at any moment?"

Arnav-ji concentrated on his plate and refused to look up, even when Khushi squeezed his hand.

"Khushi, on the other hand, she tried to pretend she wasn't looking at you. But every time I looked over, _bitwa_ , she was watching you from under her lashes. Trying to be sly about it."

Khushi blushed.

"Awww, look at these two," Bua-ji sang, "we've made them shy. Come Garima, let's clear the table and leave them alone."

Amma wheeled Babu-ji into the bedroom, Bua-ji disappeared into the kitchen, and they were left alone at the table.

"Love you Khushi," he whispered, taking their linked hands and kissing the back of hers, "I should go."

Khushi cleared the table while he said his farewells and then walked him to his car. Arnav-ji pulled her into his arms.

"I love you," she said, suddenly reluctant to let him go, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Good night. Dream about me."

She stood on the verandah and waved until his car disappeared into the narrow alleyways of Laxmi Nagar.


	9. Chapter 9: Damaad

**Chapter 9: Damaad**

 _Dream about me._

Khushi sat cross legged on the bed, her phone held tightly between both hands and his words echoing in her mind. She shook her head, chiding herself for irrationally missing him, and tried to concentrate on the messages from her sister.

 _Khushi, did you give Amma my message? How is everyone there?_

 _Yes, Jiji. Amma smiled. She likes Jija-ji! Everyone is fine, Babu-ji ate by himself._

 _That's wonderful, thank Devi Maiya for her blessings. Amma likes your Arnav-ji too._

 _Yes she does :) She didn't even get angry that he visited. He had dinner after Bua-ji caught him in our room._

 _What!? Khushi! What did you do? My jeth-ji would never sneak like that._

 _Yes he would. He was my Arnav-ji before he was your jeth-ji, Jiji. Remember New Year's Eve?_

 _One day, you will have to tell me everything, Khushi ki bachchi._

 _Nahi!_

She was distracted by a soft knock, and looked up to find her mother hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"Khushi ..."

"Amma!" Khushi rushed up, her mind already whirling with a hundred reasons for this late night visit, "is Babu-ji okay?"

"Yes, he's fine, calm ... calm down."

Khushi pressed a hand to her heart, feeling her pulse calm slowly, "Oh."

"You worry too much," her mother admonished gently, "we're fine. Arnav-bitwa and Aakash-bitwa are doing so much to help."

She nodded and led her mother to the bed, where they sat side-by-side. Amma smiled at the stars.

"I used to worry about what I'd say to my sister. I always wonder if I've given you everything she would have."

Khushi's heart twisted, "Amma ..."

"But now I can meet her with my head held high. I doubt even she could have found you a better match than the man who was here tonight."

Amma gave a watery giggle, and Khushi followed with a hushed sound that was more sob than laugh. She squeezed her mother's hands tightly between her own, her phone briefly forgotten.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you, Amma" she said softly.

Amma's hand fluttered in the air between them, "It's all forgotten. It will be a great story to tell in a few years. Anyway, it's not as if you eloped."

Khushi's eyes widened in horror as she tried to imagine it. Her mother laughed again.

"Look at you, behaving as though it really happened."

She quickly reached for another subject, blushing.

"Arnav-ji and I will never watch movies together," she sighed dramatically, "he doesn't even like _Pakeezah_!"

"Hmm," Amma grinned, "he didn't take you to see films like your heroes take your heroines? Those ... what do they call them? Dates?"

"No!" she pouted, "he didn't do anything like that. Oh, no. He took me to a fair one time."

Khushi twisted and lay her head in her mother's lap.

"Aloof, boring, angry," she listed fondly, "you know how he is."

"Smart, respectful, honest," Amma countered, "I know how he is."

"You like him more than you like me!" her accusation came swiftly.

"Yes. I like my _damaad_ a lot, because he's keeping my daughter very happy."

Khushi settled herself into the mattress, her eyes fluttering closed as mother's fingers combed through her hair.

"Khushi," Amma broke their silence a few minutes later, "he does keep you happy, yes?"

"Yes, Amma," she murmured, fighting sleep.

"Was he gentle, you know, after ... after marriage?"

She smiled, thinking of all the times Arnav-ji had held her. Gently, as if she was the most delicate of flowers, and yet possessively, as if he would never let go.

"Yes. Always."

"And con-considerate? Did he ... Does he listen to what you want?"

"Of course," Khushi muttered, on the edge of sleep.

"Is he understanding? It can be difficult for a newly married woman to ... be at ease. It can take some time to learn how to ... enjoy it ..."

"He understands," Khushi smiled, thinking of the way he'd ignored her shameless staring this morning, "and I enjoy being married to Arnav-ji!"

 _Dream about me._

She blushed as the image of him, shirtless and smiling, swam against her eyelids.

 _Hai Devi Maiya! What if he asks what I dreamt about?_

"Good," her mother seemed to breath a sigh of relief, "I'm glad. And Khushi ... if you ever have any questions about children ... you can ask me."

"Children?" Khushi fought against the delicious weight of sleep, "What do you mean?"

"Well, that's how children are ... how babies are made."

The bed gave a loud creak as Khushi shot upright. Her tummy churned as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. Gentle. Considerate. Children. Amma was speaking about _that_ , the _whatever-it-was_ that Jiji hadn't yet explained. She blushed, shivering, and opened her mouth to correct her. Nothing came out.

 _Oh Devi Maiya!_

"We didn't ... we haven't ..." she finally managed.

But this seemed to distress her mother further, "What do you mean?"

Blushing deep crimson, she mumbled a response, "He said we can wait until I'm ready."

"What have you done!" Amma wrung her hands, "Khushi, we spoke to you before you were married. We explained."

She shifted uncomfortably as she remembered the hushed conversation behind locked doors.

 _"It will hurt, but endure as best as you can. Be open to what he wants, he's your husband and you must learn."_

 _"But Amma ... I don't know ..."_

 _"HE will know, don't worry. Hush now. You'll be husband and wife. It will work out."_

"Amma ..." she began now, but her mother cut her off.

"I understand your fear Khushi, it's normal. But you can't ... this is wrong ... your husband ... what must he be thinking?"

Sleep had long since been replaced by panic and fear. His acceptance, which had seemed perfect and loving and wonderful, now seemed begrudging and wrong.

 _What if he doesn't really want to wait, he's just saying it. Then one day ..._

"Khushi, talk to him as soon as you get home," Amma interrupted her racing thoughts, "and try to fix this."

"I didn't do anything wrong," she argued, ignoring the way her tummy twisted, "we talked about it. He said ... he said only we matter, that we'll make our decisions together."

"Arnav-bitwa is a good man, but this ... this is your duty as his wife, Khushi."

"Duty!? He said he would wait, he said that we'll decide together."

"But Khushi ... " Amma sighed in defeat, "Okay. You and your husband know what's between you."

Watching her mother carefully, Khushi saw that she remained unconvinced, and made one last effort. She buried her own conflict and confusion deep within herself, to be dealt with later, and concentrated on her mother.

"Amma, it's fine. I promise you, Arnav-ji understands."

"Okay, child," Amma patted her cheek affectionately, "You're all grown up now, aren't you? Making decisions as a married woman."

"It's not like that!" she protested.

"It is. I only want the best for you, I hope you understand that."

Khushi grinned, counting on her fingers, "I already have the best. The best Amma, the best Babu-ji, the best Bua-ji, and the best Jiji!"

"The best husband, and best _sasuraal_ ," Amma teased.

"Amma! If you like him so much, tomorrow you can go to Shantivan and I will stay here!"

Khushi delighted in the familiarity and comfort of the easy banter that flowed between them. It was late when Amma left, kissing her forehead as she said good night, but Khushi lay awake, twisting and turning as her thoughts raced. She only succumbed to sleep when her exhaustion overtook her.


	10. Chapter 10: Jalebi

**Chapter 10: Jalebi**

The next morning, Khushi was brushed, washed, and packed when a knock sounded on the door. She raced around Bua-ji, eager to see him despite the war that raged within her. A part of her was desperate to leave with him, but the rest of her was just as desperate to stay.

 _To avoid the conversation we must have._

"Ready?" Arnav-ji asked, mischief twinkling in his eyes, and she smiled at the flood of memories.

The anticipation of every morning as she'd waited for him, the dizzying relief of her first glimpse of him, the weakness in her knees when he greeted her with that one word, the electricity in every stolen glance and every secret touch. She was reminded, all over again, of just how much they'd overcome.

" _Sanka Devi!_ Let Arnav- _babua_ come inside! Why are you standing there like a statue?"

He grinned, instantly chasing away some of her worries, and stepped inside to greet Bua-ji after throwing her a quick wink.

 _Tonight, Khushi_ promised herself, _I'll speak to him tonight._

They left after a meal that was neither breakfast nor lunch ( _brunch_ , Arnav-ji called it later, as if he could just invent words like that), and their day passed in a whirlwind of activity. First shopping for their honeymoon, then a quick bite at a cute restaurant, and finally, a trip to Arnav-ji's office to pick up a mysterious parcel. Khushi spent much of the afternoon distributing presents from her family and recounting Arnav-ji's visit. Nani-ji had tutted, shaking her head, Mama had laughed uproariously, and Di had taken a swipe at his head, scolding him.

Late afternoon found Khushi traipsing up the stairs to Jiji's bedroom, muttering as she steeled herself, only to find that Jiji and Jija-ji had gone out. And although she hesitated every time she passed Di's door for the rest of the day, she couldn't bring herself to knock and ask her questions.

 _How will I talk to Di about kissing Arnav-ji?_

She ate her dinner in silence, answering questions with nods and quick mutters, and ignored her husband's penetrating stare as best she could.

When they finally retired to their bedroom, Khushi's heart hammering and her questions stuck in her throat, he pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the sofa. Arnav-ji distracted her with his sweet words, and one kiss turned into two and three and four. They celebrated her return to their bed enthusiastically, their touches becoming more sure and their explorations more confident. He ignited her somehow, reducing her to a bundle of pure sensation, but pulled away and urged her to sleep when it was the last thing she wanted to do.

The ache he'd inspired still hadn't gone away.

But now she was trapped. Arnav-ji's arm was a heavy weight draped across her body, making it hard to breathe. Khushi tried to lift his hand but he held tighter in his sleep. She squirmed, struggling to free herself, before giving up.

"Arnav-ji," she whispered.

"Khushi," was his answering mumble.

"Arnav-ji, wake up."

He smiled, eyes still closed, and pulled her closer.

"Do you want more?"

He kissed along her jaw drowsily as Khushi blushed.

 _Always. That's the problem._

She pushed him away gently, whispering an explanation, "I need to go downstairs."

A sliver of moonlight came through the tiny gap in the curtains, falling on Arnav-ji as he sat up.

"Khushi, are you okay?"

"I feel like _jalebi_ ," she confessed.

" _Jalebi_?" he instantly pulled her into an embrace, "Khushi what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing. I'm just confused."

"Anything I can help with?" he stroked her hair.

"No ... Yes ... I don't know."

He waited, and released her when she didn't elaborate.

"Tell me," his tone lowered dangerously.

Khushi fiddled with the hem of her _kameez_ , refusing to meet his eyes.

"I will," she whispered, "I promise. I just need to do this first."

He swore as he shifted on the bed and flicked on a lamp.

"You know how much I hate it when you don't answer my questions, Khushi."

She trembled as Arnav-ji considered her. He was tense, his expression tinged with worry and his mouth twisted in anger. The knowledge that his anger was born of concern offered Khushi little comfort.

"Okay, let's go downstairs," he said eventually, leaving the bed to snatch his discarded shirt from the sofa and pull it on.

She watched as the muscles she'd caressed earlier disappeared under the fabric. Arnav-ji held her hand as they walked along the corridor and down the stairs. He flicked the light switches and turned to her.

"You like to make the _jalebi_ yourself, right?"

Khushi nodded. He left her to organize the ingredients while he pulled out mixing bowls, pots, and what looked like half the spoons they owned. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't need most of it, especially the measuring cups and spoons.

"Are you going to help me?" she smiled, watching as he opened and closed drawers.

Arnav-ji reached over and pulled her close, kissing her forehead. "Of course."

Khushi relaxed as they worked, the familiar rhythms putting her at ease. She'd never expected it would be so much fun making _jalebi_ with Arnav-ji. She explained what she was doing as they worked, and how it differed from making _jalebi_ with sugar in it, and soon they were standing at the cooktop. Khushi fried the batter while he dipped the results in syrup. He fed her _jalebi_ as they cooked, messily, and then kissed off the syrup that he'd _accidentally_ gotten on her. When they had a small mountain of golden spirals, he lifted her onto the counter and placed the plate in her lap, encouraging her to eat as much as she wanted. They fed each other, laughing and talking in hushed tones, and Khushi began to forget that she was ever upset.

When she'd eaten enough, however, Arnav-ji put the plate away and led her back to their bedroom. He sat against the headboard and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her to his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Khushi said a quick prayer for strength and protection and tried to explain.

"There's a lot I don't know about marriage. You know more than me and sometimes I'm scared that you'll get tired to waiting for me to be ready."

"Ready for ...?"

"The honeymoon. The things between a husband and wife ... what ... what we were do-doing earlier."

"Ahh. Wait ... Did I go too far? I'm so sorry, Khushi, I didn't ... I would never ... Shit. Khushi, I'm sorry. I'm so sor—"

"No," Khushi interrupted him, "You've never gone too far."

"Oh," Arnav-ji relaxed against her, "Thank God. Then ... then what's upsetting you?"

She absently toyed with the hem of his shirt.

"You're always so concerned about whether I'm ready or not, but I don't know what I'm getting ready for."

"What do you mean?"

The words came out in a rush.

"I talked to Jiji and she said that kissing doesn't make babies and it takes a lot more than kissing. I don't know what she means. I don't think I'm ready for children and I don't know when we'll do something that will make babies. When we're together everything feels good and exciting. I always want more and I don't know what to be afraid of and what's normal and what to expect. I'm scared you'll get tired of waiting for me to be ready, but I don't know how to tell if I'm ready or not."

Khushi silenced herself, her face burning at having confessed so much. She wasn't sure she'd even made sense. Arnav-ji had gone completely still and she feared that she'd angered him. The seconds he took to respond felt like the longest in her life.


	11. Chapter 11: Duty

**Chapter 11: Duty**

Khushi trembled as she waited for Arnav-ji to speak.

"Okay," he took a deep breath, "From what I understand there are three separate but related issues. The first is that you don't know what to expect in our marriage bed. The second is that you don't know how it relates to having children, and you aren't ready for children. The third is that you're afraid that I'm waiting for you to be ready, and you think that it might make me angry to keep waiting. Did I understand that right?"

When he said it like it, it made the situation sound clear, as if there were just three problems that they could easily fix.

"Yes," she agreed, her voice small in the darkness.

"The third is the easiest to deal with," he said, "Khushi, I won't ever force you to do anything you're not ready for. But you don't need to worry about being ready. I don't know if I'm ready for everything this marriage bed means."

Khushi turned to look at him.

"Don't look at me like that," he grimaced, "This is new for me too. I mean, yes I've ... but Khushi, no one has ever meant this much to me. No one has looked at me the way you do, no one has trusted me as much as you. It means so much more because I'm sharing it with you. And yes, I want you, more than I've wanted anyone. Sometimes I burn with it. But ... Khushi ... this terrifies me because I don't want to hurt you or let you down. So don't worry about me waiting for you. We'll do what feels right for us."

Khushi nodded, tears spilling as relief flooded her. Somehow, she'd thought that only she was vulnerable, that his experience made him immune to the doubt and nerves she felt.

"And children," he continued, "I guess this is something we should've talked about earlier. I'm not ready for them either. But I do want children eventually. What about you?"

Khushi blushed, turning to hide herself in him. "I want them too, eventually."

He chuckled, stroking her hair, "There. See, that wasn't so hard. I'll bet that you have names planned out too?"

"Maybe."

Now he was laughing in earnest, trying to hush himself so no one woke up.

"Khushi. You're going to drive me crazy, but at least you'll be infuriatingly cute about it."

She smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"As for the last thing," he said when he'd controlled his laughter, "I've never explained it to anyone. I can try. But I'll understand if you'd be more comfortable with someone else telling you. The only thing I'll say now is that the explanation can be quite clinical. It leaves out things like love, passion, and enjoyment, so it can be confusing. You might feel uncomfortable with the whole idea. That's normal."

"I don't understand."

"No, you wouldn't," Arnav-ji smiled thinly, "Okay, this is a silly analogy but maybe it will help. What if you didn't know what kissing was and someone explained it to you? It wouldn't sound like something anyone would want to do, right?"

Khushi thought about it. "So ... you're saying that I might not like ..."

"Well, that's a possibility, and we'll deal with that if it happens. But that's not what I was talking about."

The next hour was enlightening. Arnav-ji filled in the gaps in her knowledge, explaining everything and how it related to the things they had spent their nights exploring. Khushi swung between embarrassment, curiosity, and fear, and found that he was right. It sounded invasive and unappealing.

He explained how they could prevent children, pulling open the drawer on his bedside table and showing her a foil wrapped packet. He mumbled something about bananas that she didn't understand. He told her about tablets she could take, about injections, and then said that she's better off talking to a doctor because he didn't know about them in depth.

Khushi blinked sleepily as he finished, emotionally and mentally exhausted.

"That was like school," she complained, "with all the memorising and diagrams on your phone. Are you going to test me?"

Her husband grinned wickedly, "Not in the way you're imagining."

Blushing, she turned away in a huff, but he caught her easily. They settled down to sleep. She curled into Arnav-ji, holding his sweater and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Relax," he whispered, "everything's going to be fine."

"You're not angry?" she had to be sure.

"Never. Not about this."

"And what about ... wifely duties?"

"What nonsense," he scoffed, "Don't let anyone tell you it's a duty. I want you to want me too."

"And what if I'm never ready?"

"Remember earlier tonight? Remember how you didn't want to stop?"

She hadn't thought he'd noticed. Her response was a whisper. "Y-yes."

"There will come a time when we won't stop. But until then, I'm going to make sure you're with me every step of the way. That means that, sometimes, I'll pull away before you're ready to. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, or don't want you. I never want you to regret your body's responses, Khushi. When it happens, it'll be because you're ready both here and here."

He punctuated his words with kisses, one to her temple and one over her heart.


	12. Chapter 12: Distraction

**Chapter 12: Distraction**

A low sound escaped him as Khushi broke their kiss. She turned and hid herself in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Arnav-ji took the opportunity to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck and up to her ear. Khushi's fingers tightened in his hair as he whispered to her, his breath hot on her skin. Her other hand gripped his shoulder, hard, afraid that she might float away if he didn't anchor her. Dazed, she caught the words "Khushi", "want" and "stop", and realised that he was asking if he should stop.

 _Yes_ , whispered a small part of her, but it was drowned out by a larger part that screamed its need.

 _No, no, no, don't stop_.

Khushi pulled him closer, and he let out a growl as he repositioned them so he could untie her _dori_.

It'd been two days since their midnight _jalebi_ making. They were on their bed, sprawled across the clothes they were supposed to be packing into suitcases. They'd come upstairs after dinner to prepare for their honeymoon, making good progress before becoming ... _distracted_.

Now, with his shirt on the floor, her _dori_ untied and her hair unbound, they were approaching the end of all that was familiar to her. But she wanted, very badly, to know what came next. They spent their nights exploring each other. She was beginning to understand the things he'd told her in the darkness, had learnt to recognise the bewildering response of her body to his as the desire he'd spoken of. She was beginning to crave his touch in ways she'd never imagined.

For a while, her world reduced to him ... just him. She shivered as he unzipped her dress, murmuring assurances in a low voice.

He slowed them down some time later, calming his breathing and gentling their kisses. He slid the dress back up her arms, zipping it up and retying it. They lay together, legs still tangled.

"We're meant to be packing," Arnav-ji said with a grin.

Laughing, Khushi snuggled into him. "We did some of it."

\- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -

The next day, they sat in the car as Mohan-ji drove them to the airport. Overnight, Khushi had discovered that she was terrified of flying.

"Relax," Arnav-ji soothed, wincing slightly as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"You relax," she snapped, "How does such a huge piece of metal fly? It's unnatural. Oh Devi Maiya, please protect me."

"Do you need a lesson in physics?" her husband asked, "Only ... I seem to remember you didn't enjoy the last time I taught you something."

Blushing, Khushi stared out the window. He chuckled as he ran his thumb over her knuckles before pulling out his phone. He nudged her shoulder, drawing her attention to a cartoonish diagram of a plane's wings with arrows drawn around it.

"The wings of an airplane are shaped so that air moves faster over the top than the bottom. This creates something called lift, because of the difference in pressure between the top and bottom. This lift counteracts gravity, lifting the wings, and the plane, into the air."

Khushi huffed, "I'm pretty sure you made half of those words up. Like your _brunch_ , and your English kissing."

"French."

"Hush!"

He kissed her hair, muttering something about how she was going to drive him insane, and tucked his phone away.

 _Khushi, why did you watch that show with all the air-plane crashes?_

She shivered, her hand finding Arnav-ji's lapel unconsciously as she considered all the flaming infernos she'd seen through her TV.

"Do you need to be distracted, Mrs Raizada?"

Khushi turned to her husband, nodding violently. Her fleeting thoughts about Arnav-ji telling her a story slipped away as he turned to the front of the car.

"Mohan, you'll see and hear nothing until we reach the airport. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Mohan-ji said, already plugging in a set of earphones.

Arnav-ji waited until his driver shifted the rear-view mirror slightly before turning to her.

"What kind of distraction did you have in mind?" he grinned devilishly.

Khushi blushed crimson, her thoughts threatening to turn into mush, but she fought to hold onto her sanity.

"Arnav-ji! Not here! Not now!"

"Sssshhh, relax."

He held a finger to her lips. Somehow, this whisper of a touch was enough to make her tremble. She closed her eyes as he traced her lips, her cheek, her eyelids. She felt him move, and then his body was against hers, pressing her into the seat. His lips brushed hers gently, and then with a little more pressure. His hands glided down her form, teasing. Having only recently discovered the magic he could create when he touched her, she gasped and deepened the kiss, brazenly seeking more contact.

He pulled away with a muttered curse.

"Sorry. I forgot ..." Arnav-ji kissed her temple in apology.

Khushi reddened as she remembered where they were. In the car, headed to the airport, with Mohan-ji _right there_.

"Rakshas!" she swatted at her husband, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Wait until we get to where we're going, Khushi. I'll made good on that."

* * *

The End

* * *

 _Author's Note: I can't believe the Secret Romance AU has come to an end! It's been with me for so long, my own little happy place, but it feels good to have shared it. I've explored what I set out to with this story. For me, the struggle with AT LAST was to balance Khushi's desire for her husband with her lack of knowledge, something I saw her struggle with in the show. I hope I did in such a way that she didn't come across as unintelligent._

 _MOMENTS is, and probably always will be, my favourite of all the things I've written. Something about it makes me deliriously happy. This entire universe (HAPPY NEW YEAR, MOMENTS, THE REVEAL and AT LAST) has been amazing, but MOMENTS is special to me._

 _As always, a thousand thank yous to every single person who read it. And a special, heartfelt thanks to those who took the time to review or a message. It's still wild to me that people become invested in something I wrote._


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